


Boy in your (Other) Phone

by Funfactskiddos1705



Series: New Light [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Derekwoulddoanythingforreid, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Love Confession, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29103468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funfactskiddos1705/pseuds/Funfactskiddos1705
Summary: Morgan starts to realize that he would do anything for his young co-worker, that was his best friend. This seems to be normal, in their line of work, until he starts to prioritize him more and more, but that's normal right? He would do anything to make sure that the younger man was safe, even if that meant staying up all night with him, instead of getting laid.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Series: New Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135397
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	Boy in your (Other) Phone

Derek Morgan was a ladies man to say the least, yes, he did have a few male flings here and there, but he was almost always going home with women. It was never anything "real", anything superficial, one night stands, drunken sex to get his mind off of the cases that he worked, the phantom of his childhood that haunted him every time he closed his eyes or the smell of bibliosmia. The smell that wafted when you walked into a library, the comfortableness that follows was like a hug, and it followed the darker man everywhere he went. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the smell out of his mind.

  
If he was being honest, he wasn't a "sex addict" like most people thought, cough cough, Spencer Reid, but it was a way to deal with the trauma of his past. This was a way for him to feel in control of his body again, even if it was just for a few hours. He would dance with someone all night at the club, talking with them and building a mutual relationship, sometimes names were shared, but usually, it was just pet names. Sometimes it made him sick afterwards to tell you the truth, he always felt like he couldn't handle a normal relationship, like all he was meant to do was live the cycle of trauma, and try to cope with another sexapade, dehumanizing the other in his bed down to not even a name, just a face, and in the morning they were gone, and so was his control. The amount of times that he had somebody walk out on him was humiliating because he had gone into a panic attack, that lead into a flash back, but he would never open up to anyone about it. In the morning he always woke up, the trauma flooding back like someone had opened the gates, as he sat in the shower and cried. Would he, Derek Morgan, the alpha of the team admit that every weekend, after every rough case, after every night like that, he would end up crying like he did when he was 13.

  
When he cried though, when he felt like he couldn't be loved by anyone, or that anyone could love him back, he would smell it. The smell of books, of ink dancing across pages, and he would smile, even if it was just for a second. He would find himself with a grin across his lips and his mind blank of any anxiety or panic, he was simply in another place.  
Tonight was one of those nights, Derek had brought a girl over to his house, Clooney was still over at his neighbor Lynn's for the night, so he wouldn't be getting into too much trouble. He had went clubbing hours previous, dancing, more like grinding up, with anyone willing to dance. It wasn't that hard, he usually attracted a crowd.

  
He had worn his dark green Henley, a pair of dark jeans that were just slightly stained from this week's reconstruction project, he had been painting the new house he was renovating, and a pair of worn out boots. He had caught the eye of a young Latino woman, she was around 27, if he had to guess, he really didn't like to profile on his nights off. She was shorter than Kate, standing at least 5', in a tight ChromaFlair dress, that hugged her body tightly, leaving no room for imagination. The dress seemed to change color with the lights that flashed in the club, but Derek was more focused on the smell again, the way that it tickled his nose and made him feel at ease, the way it boosted his confidence, only to faltering knowing that the source of that smell would never in a million years accompany him to such an obscene place.

The girl, let's call her Coatlicue, who was the goddess of Earth, fertility, destruction and reaction, so in many ways she knew how to party, began to lead Derek out of the Club at the mention of heading to his place. He followed, in a daze thinking of the smell once again that always seemed to be there, that always seemed to be on the back of his mind. How was it that this young man always worked his way into his thoughts, even in the most inappropriate times! He chuckled slightly, for someone who was born and raised in Las Vegas, you would think he would be able to handle some wild fun.  
  
Derek found himself smiling again, as Coatlicue lead him out into the fresh Virgina air, it was cold and hit him like a bullet, his body began to work on auto pilot as they made their way to his black SUV. His mind far gone, on the couch with the mopped haired man, hearing his laugh as he threw his head back, Clooney jumping onto his lap, pawing at his lithe ivory fingers to pet him. He obliged, loving on Clooney, giving him small kisses, as a movie played quietly in the background, Chinese was laid out in half eaten containers, chop sticks in Derek's hands as he prodded at the orange chicken. The other had long discharged his chopsticks, prompting instead to use a fork, laughing at his inability to use such utensils. This was bliss, one of the times that Derek wasn't thinking about catching serial killers, about his past, about who was the next girl or guy he was going to take home, this was home to him, this was the smell. This was movie night every other week at his place.  
  
"Are you just going to stand there, letting me freeze or are you going to open the door. 'Cause, I'll go back inside if you don't want this," The sound of her voice broke his thoughts as he fumbled with his keys. He mumbled an apology, when did he start to become like this? Distracted by everything, not on his A game. No he wasn't distracted by everything it was only one thing.  
He began to drive to his house, his hand resting on her thigh, letting his thumb gently stroke the smooth skin there. She smiled up at him, noticing that he was white knuckling it with his left hand.  
The drive only took 10 minutes, but it felt like 45 if you were Coatlicue, sitting there awkward in a strangers car who didn't seem to make conversation, didn't seem to want to flirt. He got out of the car, coming around the open the door for her. Walking her up the stairs to his house, he unlocked the door, another whiff of 15th century, bound with leather, fresh off the printing press.

  
Once inside, he set his keys down in this little green dish with koi fish that Garcia had bought for him ages ago. Coatlicue allowed herself to sit on his plush couch, which was a pain when Clooney was pissed and would scratch at the legs, and began to take off her heels, moaning as she did so. Derek made his way over there, rubbing his hand up her thigh as he began to kiss her neck.  
  
Lilac. Thats what she smelled like. An airy, here then gone perfume. He sucked on her neck, admitting soft pornographic moans from the young woman. Her eyes filling with lust as she began to squirm, her small hand roaming up and down the center of his abdomen, feeling his muscles contract with each tease.  
  
"Bedroom now," he growled in her ear. Sending heat through her body, as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he began to devour her neck more and more.

  
  
He made his way to the bedroom, stopping only once to pin her to the wall, rutting up wards to hear her moan in pleasure. He closed his eyes, he didn't want this to be her, he wanted this to be someone else. He needed this to be tall, lanky and gangly, awkward but not enough that it was his defining feature, no, no. He needed to hear his name on his lips, even if it wasn't moans, even if it wasn't sexual, he just needed him.  
He carried her to the bedroom, throwing her on the bed, as he began to take his shirt off. When did he start to feel like this towards him? Towards his young coworker? It had always been there, an intense caring, and intense need to be around each other, but that was normal in the field, they had to be close or the job would fail. They were bestfriends, of course they were close, or were they something more? When did he start needing to touch him. When did he start to not flinch or back away? Since day one, he thought, maybe, or maybe it was even before that, maybe this young boy was just some kind of angelic dream to him. Why did he flirt with him, the way he didn't flirt with anyone else, he never mixed work with life, unless you count joking with Garcia.  
  
He bent down, unbuttoning his pants, as she stared up at him, with large green eyes, pupils dilated from lust, she began to slip her dress up. A beautifully coordinated black lace bra and panties lay before him, outlining her body, nicely. He was just about to lean down, to kiss a trail of bruises from her collar to her hip when...  
  
"Shit, I'm sorry that's probably work," Derek muttered, getting off the bed, stifling through his pants to find the buzzing phone.

Coatlicue looked disappointed, sitting up and huffing, rolling her eyes and resting her head on her hands. "Should've just stayed at the club," she muttered.  
  
It was 12:38 AM, a new case was the best possible thing he could think of, until he saw the caller ID: Pretty Boy, with a photo of the young man in an oversized sweatshirt with his turtle, holding it up to show Derek. He answered instantly, putting up a finger and walking out into the living room.  
  
"M-Morgan.." Spencer began, sobs could be heard on the other end of the phone. Sniffling and then something, Derek assumed it was the back of Spencer's hand or his sleeve, running across his   
nose.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? Talk to me." Derek cooed it the phone. As if he could reach out and touch the boy, he reached his hand out.  
  
"She... shes..." he stammered, hyperventilating into the phone. Derek at least was able to figure out that it was a female that was causing him distress. It maybe his mother, or someone on his team.  
  
"Pretty boy, do I need to come over?"  
There was a huff on the other end of the phone, and then a sigh, a long stretched out sigh. "No, no, it's late, you need your sleep. I-I'm sorry I probably ruined your night."

"Give me 5." Derek hung up the phone and started to head to back to the bedroom to get redressed, forgetting, of course about what exactly he was doing not even ten minutes prior to the phone call.  
  
Coatlicue stood in the door way, angered, apparently listening to the phone call at hand."Pretty boy! Give me five!" She spat, as she fixed her dress. "God, I should have fucking stayed at the club, not left with the likes of you!" She yelled, walking past him, smacking him across the check. She made it to the couch and collected her heels before walking out.  
  
Derek was out the door only seconds after her, not even bothered about how the young girl got home. His mind was set on the young man, starting his SUV, and whipping out of the drive.  
  
It took him a matter of five minutes to get to Reid's apartment complex, when it would have usually taken him 15, but with little traffic due to the hour, he could speed. He took the steps two a time until he was in front of room 187 B. Knocking, he held his breath, scared wasn't a strong enough word  
  
What he didn't expect to get answered by blood stained hazel eyes, lined with horn rimmed spectacles. He wore a plain white t-shirt and lose fitting sweatpants, that hung at his feet and hugged his hips snuggly. Reid's hair was in shambles, hair every which way, as he looked at Derek, his body trembled.  
  
He fell into the older man's arms, his head resting in the nape on his neck, quite sobs escaped his mouth. Derek's shoulder began to get soaked, but he didn't mind, he just wanted Spencer to be okay, to be safe. He let his left hand wrap around the boys back and his right around his neck, his chin planted in the boys locks, curls tickling his nose. The smell filling his senses again, home.  
  
From here he had view of the entire living area of the apartment, well if you could even call it that. His book shelves were knocked over, books thrown around the room in no particular order. Some were open and others were closed. His go-bag was in the middle of the floor, contents spilled out and searched through.  
  
If Derek moved his head slightly to the left, he could see that all the kitchen cupboards had been opened and emptied onto the floor. Even the fridge's contents lay spread out among pots and pans.

If the man looked to the right, he could see a long hallway with Christmas lights rutting along the wall, most likely to light the way to Spencer's bedroom. The mattress had been lifted, against his headboard, all of his cabinets emptied onto the floor. Anything and everything that might hide something was emptied, dumped onto the floor, discarded. The only thing left untouched was Esme's terrarium, who watched everything unfold. Oh if only she could talk.  
  
"Pretty boy, hey," Derek took his hand off of Spencer's neck, stepping back slightly, still holding him with his left arm, rubbing circles into his back. He lifted Spencer's head with his forefinger and trapped his chin with his thumb, caressing it. Spencer leaning into the touch, still crying slightly.  
  
Though he was crying, and profoundly a mess, Derek found him the most beautiful thing. If times were different, circumstances called otherwise, he would've kissed him right then and there, but Spencer didn't need that. He needed help, and that's what Derek was there for.  
  
Spencer looked up at him with big doe eyes. "Wanna tell me what's wrong so I can start to fix it," he whispered. He knew that when Spencer got like this sometimes loud noises could send him into a panic attack. Spencer was so anal about everything, not that he was a neat freak, things were usually messy in his apartment, but never trashed, it didn't make sense why he would have destroyed his apartment. He got upset when anyone even moved a pen from his desk.  
  
Derek remembered when Seaver, being new of course, didn't know that Spencer didn't like it when people moved his belongings, especially on his desk or on his geographical profile. She had started by tidying up his desk before they got on the plane, or at least that's what Derek understood since they didn't find out until they got back, while everyone else was headed home to get their go-bag or out to their car, Seaver was still in the bull pen, with hers and 30 minutes to spare. In her defense, she thought it would be a kind gesture, he did keep a pretty messy work space. Pens were sprawled out all along the desk, papers and sticky notes every which way, emptied coffee cups lay on top of the desk, but not enough to bother anything, and books lined the barrier between desks, like a little fence.  
  
She began to collect all the pens and put them onto one side of the desk ,doing the same with the papers. She collected them, shifting them down into a neat stack, and rested them neatly onto the other side of the desk. She took the stack of sticky notes, that he obviously got from Garcia since they were bright pink, and placed them in the middle. Collecting the coffee cups, she walked to the trash to throw them away. She had five minutes to spare so she jotted a little note onto the top sticky note and left a smiley face, and left to board the jet.

  
Sometime during the case, when Spencer and Derek were assigned to talk to the victims family about connects they might have had, Spencer almost done with his geographical profile, notes jotted down on a white board, the map next to it.  
  
Emily was out with Hotch checking out the crime scene, trying to find any lead that might help the case, and Rossi was still talking to the local PD. This left Seaver to her own devices, and seeing the way that the coat-closeted room was left, she began to tidy up.  
  
She never understood how Spencer could read his own notes, they were gibberish. A blue sticky note here, aligned with a pink post it there and followed by a green string that lead somewhere she couldn't fallow, it honestly gave her a headache trying to figure it out.  
  
Truth be told though, the men had came back earlier than expected, not early enough that Seaver wasn't done, but early enough that no one else had yet. 

Derek had stopped at the water dispenser, getting a cup for him and Spencer since he knew the boy handed drank any all day when he heard the gasp. Derek came rushing in, fearful for the other man, as he stammered to get out a sentence.  
  
Putting the drinks down Derek sat him down on the floor, knowing it was easier for Spencer this way, letting him lean against him. The younger man started to hyperventilate. Derek began to rub circles in the boys back, trying to soothe him.  
  
"You need to breathe, Pretty boy. Like this,"

Emily and Hotch had returned to find their boy genius hyperventilating in the arms of their tactical force. "What..." Emily began and looked around, shaking her head.

Derek, hating himself for doing it, called out of the room, making the younger man flinch. "Who the fuck touched Reid's stuff?" He wasn't yelling, but it was soft. He was growling, overly protective of the younger man.  
  
"Lost it..." Spencer mumbled, words laying on his lips for a second like they were foreign to him. He looked up at Derek again pleading eyes. "Lost it... can't... can't find it, Derek.. can't find it." He sniffled, his eyes welling with tears again.  
  
"What did you lose, Spencer?" Using the boys first name meant business, meant that he was serious about whatever was going on . He jut wanted to make him stop crying, or at least figure out why he was.

"My mom," he sniffle, "I'm being rude, please come inside," Spencer unlatched himself form the older man only slightly, as he walked inside. "I'm sorry, for uh, the mess, and uh, your shirt. I'm sorry you came over," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you want anything to drink? It's... it's not cold. I have water and I think I still have some of your beer left over, oh yeah, that's probably not something you want at one in the morning. Did you know that beer actually have been linked acetic acid bacteria, lactic acid bacteria, Obesumbacterium, Pediococcus, Pectinatus, and Zymomonas species. Also something you probably didn't want to know. I also have juice boxes for Henry, carbonated beverages, coffee and wine that the girls like, but again, they're all not cold." Not looking up, the boy continued to rub his neck, looking at his feet as he curled them into the carpet.

"Spencer, I don't want anything besides you to tell me what's wrong, bud. You're really upset and I want to fix it," Derek gave him an 1000 megawatt smile that made him blush, as he looked up at the man in his living room, surrounded by the hoards of books, clothing and a tooth brush.   
  
"When I was younger, my mother used to read to me, like most mothers do," he began, using his other hand to elaborate, "when I institutionalized her, when I turned 18, I kept the book on me. I would bring it with me when I went to see her, if I could bring myself to even go in, and I would read it to her like she did to me. It brought her joy and even thought I have an eidetic memory, I can't recite the book forwards and backwards, and part that you may ask, I still read it to her. That book was," he began to choke up, his eyes shutting and his body convulsed with tears. Derek stepped forward and took the smaller man into his arms again. "it was the last thing I had that meant that she was still, you know, sane. And now... I lost it. I can't find it anywhere, Derek." He sobbed into Derek, letting it out.  
  
"We'll find it, even if I have to scour the Earth. Maybe a fresh knew set of 20/20's is all we need. You need to go to bed though, it's late, and I don't want you getting sick, here," lifting his head up, Spencer looked shook his head, "I'll get you something to eat since I know you and you didn't eat, and then we'll get you off to bed and I'll look for that book for yours okay?"  
  
"I can't. I may or may not have destroyed the bedroom as well, I took the mattress off of the headboard, which now thinking about it, I was out of it to even attempt to do that by myself," he chuckled.  
  
"Promise me then that if I go to put your mattress back, and pillow, that you will find something to eat for me," Spencer nodded, "no, you know the rule," Derek held out his pinky and Spencer took it in his own, smiling as his eyes lit up.  
  
They stood there for a moment, just holding fingers, as Derek felt comfortable just being in the man's presence. Spencer knew that he loved Derek, he loved everything about the man, from the way that he could make him laugh, to the way that he was way to over protective, but he feared that Derek wouldn't feel the same so he never made the first move.  
  
Spencer was the first one to break the hold after what felt like years, but was probably more like two minutes. "Do you want anything?"  
  
Derek had to think back to if he had even ate dinner today. Fuck he thought to himself, he had ran that girl out of his house. It was in the past now, he shrugged it off, he was doing much more important work anyway.

"Sure, you know what I like," he called heading towards the hallway. When he entered the bedroom, he greeted Esme. "Hey! How old is she now?" Derek hollered, grabbing the mattress, shifting in down.  
  
"2 years, 5 months, 9 minutes and 16, 17 seconds!" The other called back, rummaging through the pits and pans that he had thrown around the kitchen. "Aha! Found it!"  
  
"The book?" Derek smiled to himself, letting the mattress fall onto the springs, and then adjusting it. He began to grab pillows and throw them on the bed, knowing that Spencer didn't have a preference of pillows.  
  
"No, I found the ramen I was looking for." Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing the quilted comforter that Garcia made him, and threw it on the bed, tucking in the sides. He looked around, sighing as he began to pick up the clothes that he had discarded all over the room.  
  
"Hey, pretty boy!"  
  
"Mmmm?"  
  
"I'm picking up your clothes, okay, we can sort through them later, I just don't want you to trip over them tonight, is that okay with you?"  
  
"Yes! Diners almost done, you might want to come in here!"  
  
Derek found himself smiling again, with a handful of Reid's belongings, he knew he was one of the only people who could touch Reid's objects without him being scared. He noticed Reid's boxers laying out, begging to be touched, to be taken.  
How ever odd it was, Derek snatched the article, just touching it gave him joy. Giving him a fever, feeling his pants tighten.  
  
"Diners done!"  
  
"I'm coming!" Everything sounded so domestic to his ears, but he didn't complain. Living with the younger man was his dream, but again, not the right circumstances. He slipped the boxers into his back pocket as he walked out.  
  
They ate mostly in silence, besides Spencer's cute little hums he made when he ate, that always made Derek smile. He had never met anyone that hummed, or truly, made noise when they ate. Spencer sipped at a water, while the other man nursed a lukewarm coke.  
  
"So your staying the night right?" Spencer asked as soon as Derek had taken a swig out of his beverage. Choking slightly, the man coughed in surprise. Sure, he had stayed their countless times, but he had never seen Spencer this blunt with him. "I mean it's late, and I don't like the thought of you driving home tired. Plus you said you would look for that book,"  
  
"Yeah I will, I'll sleep on the couch, but I don't even have clothes though," I shook my head, looking at the couch covered in books. He wasn't oppose to sleeping with Spencer, he did it enough of cases to know that the man was a furnace, but he was brought up right by his mother.  
  
"No, no need. Have you seen that mattress? It can fit the both of us, without us touching. You also left clothes here the last time in case this happened remember? I think there is a t-shirt, shorts and a pair of boxer-briefs. You're welcome to use my shower as well. Mi casa es tu casa," He bit his lip, chewing on the dead skin around the base. His hands worked their way up to pull at it.  
  
After diner, Spencer headed off to bed, saying goodnight to Derek, rubbing his eyes and yawning the boy was obviously tired. Derek had managed to get the title out of those stubborn, kissable, lips. Le Morte d'Arthur, the tales of King Arthur, fitting truly, written in its original French.  
He began to search first in the living room, diving through book title after book title. Once done with a book, he would place it in a pile, making sure to put them back to some neatly order. There had to be over a thousand books just in the living room, but Derek worked fast, he had to. Not only was it his job as a FBI agent, but he needed to make sure Spencer was happy.  
  
The living room was a dud, but on the bright side, you could see the floor, and Spencer's go-bag was packed again and set on the couch that you could again sit on. He made his way to the kitchen.  
He highly doubted that there was any books in here, only seeing cutlery. Pots and pans littered the floor with water bottles and packages of carrots.  
  
Derek cursed himself for not doing the kitchen first. Hating that he was being obnoxiously loud putting away items. Under one of the pans though, he found the book he was looking for and smiled. He set it on the island and continued to the objects in mention away.  
  
As he started to make his way over to the fridge, he felt something grab his waist. Derek Morgan, never fooling around when being touch, reached for his weapon, and realizing that he wasn't carrying, his heart sank. Spencer was in the house with someone that couldn't protect him.  
  
"It's five o'clock, please come to bed," he felt a soft head rest on his shoulder. If he wasn't exhausted, he would've said that he thought Spencer had kissed his shoulder, but that didn't seem right, but damn Spencer's sleepy voice was adorable.  
  
"Look on the island," Derek whispered, holding the wine in his hand, refrigerator door opened as he was refilling it.  
  
"You found it! Where was it!" Spencer squeaked, squeezing his tighter. His head still rested on Derek's shoulder, as swayed a little, like he was dancing, his arms though were now around his waist.  
  
"I sure did, angel. It was under one of your pans." He truly didn't mean for the nickname to fall out, the name that he called Spencer to himself, but it did and there was no taking it back.  
  
"Hmm angel? Did you know that angels in the Bible have multiple eyes instead of the humanoid versions that modern day Christianity has portrayed." Spencer whispered in his ear. Words not even sexy, sending heat down the man's body. If this is what Spencer could do to him non intentionally, imagine what he could do when he meant it.  
  
"Can I get some help?" Derek croaked, feeling his pants tighten every time Spencer leaned into him. He swore he felt a bulge, but again he was tired and probably imagining it.  
  
Spencer knelt down, looking gorgeous on his knees, picking up a ketchup bottle and putting it away. They worked together getting everything back into place, taking at most five minutes.  
  
When they stood, neither knew who initiated it, if you ask Derek it was him, Spencer would say it was him, but either way, the men both found their lips on the other. It was slow at first, but gradually picked up speed, lust taking over. I guess years of sexual tension would do that.  
  
Derek licked at Spencer's lips, hearing the small moan that Spencer admitted, as he swallowed it. Spencer obeyed, opening his mouth to let the tongue explore. Eventually, they had to catch their breath. Resting their foreheads on the other, eyes searching the other as they both smiled, drunken with love.  
  
"I love you, Derek," Spencer whispered.  
  
"I love you too, Pretty Boy, but let's go to bed. I'm beat."  
  
They both laughed, as Spencer took his hand and lead them to the shared bed. Derek got changed, quickly may I add, as he laid beside the smell of old books. 

"I want this forever," Derek whispered, kissing the boy on the temple as he settled in, wrapping an arm around his abdomen.

  
"As do I."


End file.
